Here is the second part to this little fic here. It is shorter than the last chapter, but I felt that was a good place to end before we get into other things. I also wanted to get something up before I catch a plane in the morning, so there might not be much of me for a little bit.
If anybody is even reading this, that is.
Anyway, please feel free to review or whatever you like! I hope you enjoy it!
Something Familiar
Part 2
A leather bound book sat open in her lap, she had originally intended to use it as a journal, but she found herself drawing in it more than anything. Of course, that is what they had started off as, drawings, single objects standing alone in the open space of the page. As she flipped through the pages, she started to notice that her drawings started to grow more detailed, backgrounds added, figures of people appearing, those too starting to gain detail.
There was a nagging thought in the back of her mind, telling her that she should have gone home first before sitting down under a tree and started drawing, but something had flashed in her mind's eye, a memory of some sort. The memory was foggy of shorts, down to the point where Esther wasn't too sure if it was a memory, though it was too familiar to her to be something she made up or dreamt.
Regardless, she decided to take a small detour towards the docks in Oakfield, sitting down at the base of a tree with a view of the shore, dock, and what she understood was the figure of The Spire in the distance, if the stories were true. The only thing she remembered about the memory was that it was at the docks, and there had been a dog standing at the end of them, still and seemed to be looking out at The Spire.
She wasn't sure how many hours passed, all she was focused on was the memory in her head, the docks in front of her, and the paper tucked under the "journal" with only a corner of it peeking out. She was mostly finished, doing the finishing touches of the dog. Slowly, she looked over the drawing and smiled. She was rather fond of it, dubbing it as one of her better drawings.
Suddenly, she realized that it wasn't late afternoon any longer, but rather late evening. Her eyes widening, she shut the book and stood, taking off down the paths leading towards her home. Esther wanted to laugh at herself, there was a sense of excitement about what she had in her possession, yet there was also some anxiety about the fact that her mother would most likely have her head for taking so long to get back home with the supplies she needed.
And, sure enough, Elizabeth wasn't pleased. She stood on the front steps of their small home, their room, rather. It was old, made of worn wood and had no walls or extra levels to it. It made it so that Esther's "bedroom" was also her mother's bedroom, the kitchen, and the dining room all that once. Still, it was home.
Elizabeth's face was easy to read, worry written all over her features, that soon morphed into relief when Esther came running up the pathway, then outright anger. She marched down the path towards her, Esther pausing in her run to hang her head as she approached.
"Where have you been?" she snapped, gripping her shoulder hard, making Esther look up at her and try not to flinch at the pain that was causing, "when you said that you would be back by mid-day, I didn't expect you to be back with tonight's dinner supplies well into the evening."
"I am really sorry," Esther said quickly, "I got everything you asked for, I just got...distracted."
Elizabeth just let out a sigh, one that seemed to make the disapproval in her eyes even more unbearable. "You worried me," she said after a few beats, "though, I am relieved that you made it back in one piece. I guess we will be eating late, I just wish you would show some more responsibility."
Esther didn't really reply, just handing her mother the bag of supplies with an apologetic look on her face. Elizabeth took it from her and headed back towards the house, Esther following as she pulled out the small piece of paper, reading it over once again as her mother set out to start cooking.
"The food and spices weren't all I picked up from Bowerstone," Esther said during dinner, which was by candlelight, seeing as the sun had set by the time it was finished. Elizabeth glanced up at her, pausing in her eating.
"Oh?" she asked, the disapproving tone appearing once again in her voice, though Esther doubted that it ever disappeared. Esther gave her mother a slightly irritated look as she pulled out the paper from under her journal, passing it over to her mother.
"I didn't have to pay any money to get this, but..." she trailed off as her mother took it from her, leaning towards the candle some more to read it more clearly. The paper bared what looked like the Royal seal, making Elizabeth furrow her eyebrows. She quickly read through the message following it, a look of understanding crossing her face.
"They are looking for artists," Esther said, excitement leaking through her voice, "if I get the job, it would certainly put more money in our pockets, and open more doors for me."
"Esther..." Elizabeth started, pausing. She didn't want to stop on her child's aspirations, she never really did, as crazy as some of them were. She knew that Esther worked really hard on her drawings, it was something she took pride in but...this?
"Esther," she continued, "I know that you want to go somewhere with your drawings, your artwork, but this is royalty you are speaking of. They are looking for artists. While your drawings are good, some of them I could say look lifelike, I would hate for you to put your faith in this and be...turned away. You are still young, as well."
"I know," Esther said, nodding her head, "I gave this thought, and I have decided I wanted to try this. While it would be...disheartening to not be picked, what will they do if I don't meet their standards? Execute me?"
"You are so reckless," Elizabeth muttered, placing the paper down on the table once again, "though, all you will be doing is drawing for them. Just remember, this isn't a citizen that is allowing you to draw them for a gold piece. This is the Queen of Albion."
"I'm well aware of that," Esther said with a nod, giving her mother a small smile, "does this mean that I have your permission?"
"You are growing into a young woman," her mother said, picking up her eating utensil and moved some of the food around on her plate, "I figure it about time that I start to let you make your own choices. Not that I won't let you do so without some warning, first."
While he had never been inside Bowerstone Castle, he hadn't even been inside it while it was still called Fairfax Castle, he didn't really expect it to be so...bright. Though, the castle was still somewhat dark with all the red, not that Reaver minded the colour, seeing as he was rather fond of it, it was lighter than what he had been expecting. Then again, he had not been expecting to enter the castle at all while Sparrow still resided in it.
They weren't exactly what he would call friends. He had tried to betray her at a total of three times, and she had dragged him into the whole Spire mess. Still, he had found it rather amusing when one of her messengers showed up at his manor, claiming that the Queen of Albion requested his presence at Bowerstone Castle. While the trip to Bowerstone was long and boring, he found that he preferred the new situation he found himself in to the monotonous one back in Bloodstone.
The citizens started to sound the same, the whores even starting to feel the same to him, it was getting dull and boring. Reaver didn't put up with dull and boring.
He strode into the castle like he owned it, only taking a few moments to take in the interior and partly listening to a thin man, the queen's butler, he assumed, prattle on about following him to the Throne Room. He followed the butler up the staircase leading up towards the Throne Room, his newly acquired cane in hand. It was certainly something he didn't need, though he found himself growing rather fond of it. He also found that it made a nice tool to swat at people with when they stood in his way or weren't doing something fast enough.
"Your Majesty," the butler announced, pausing slightly when Reaver walked past him and further into the room, a grin passing the deviant's face at the sight of the woman who stood in front of her throne, "Mister Reaver has arrived."
"Ah, yes, I can see that, Jasper," Sparrow said, Reaver raising his eyebrows slightly at hearing her speak so clearly, so loudly.
From what he could remember, Sparrow didn't talk much, which had sometimes gave him the feeling of talking to a wall. Aside from the thumbs up and other expressions, along with the short and quiet replies to things, she had remained rather silent.
"You may leave us, now, thank you," she continued, giving her butler a quick and rather friendly smile, though her eyes seemed to reflect some irritation.
Ah, dear me, I wonder who could be causing our wonderful queen such discomfort, Reaver thought to himself sarcastically, his smile growing slightly at the thought. Sparrow looked back at him, returning his smile with a politely forced one.
"Your Majesty," Reaver said, bowing deeply after a few beats, "I must say, I am rather surprised that you would call me to your humble abode."
"Yes, well, I wouldn't be expecting any further visits," Sparrow said, her pleasant facade dropping slightly to allow some bitterness to slip though, "with that said, I want to discuss the reason I called you before me."
"Oh, straight to business? You have no time for me, after all the years we have been apart? I am hurt," Reaver said, bringing his free hand up to grip at his chest, and stomped his cane against the floor in an overly dramatic gesture, one that Sparrow found herself openly glaring at, "regardless, I am at your service."
"I need your expertise," Sparrow said, pausing, then quickly continued before his perverted mind could piece that together, "on art."
"On art?" Reaver asked, actually sounding somewhat disbelieving, "you called me all the way here for my opinion on a piece of artwork?"
"Well, no," Sparrow said, "there is no piece of artwork just yet, that is the issue. I have sent out word a month or so ago about seeking out someone to do my portraits and other future portraits, and I have recently discovered that a second opinion can make all the difference. When I thought of someone who had an eye for detail and artwork, you came to mind."
"Oh, did I? While I am honoured to have been the first on her majesty's mind, I do have to ask you a question. What is in it for me?"
"I owe you nothing, Reaver," Sparrow stated, all forced friendliness and politeness gone, leaving her sounding angry and stern, "after you betrayed me on more than one occasion, I still saved you from Lucien and didn't try you for treason once I was crowned ruler of Albion. That alone should be enough payment for you to help me in this very minimal of a task."
"So, you wish for me to be your adviser of sorts in this little endeavour?"
"...Yes," Sparrow said, not sounding too thrilled about it, "once I have my artist, I will consider us even and will not call on you again."
"Never again? Oh, but you make such wonderful company and have such a beautiful home!" Reaver exclaimed, his grin widening at the obvious irritation on her face. If he couldn't kill her for wasting his time, he could at least annoy her enough to the point where she wishes he would.
"My patience is very low tonight, Reaver," Sparrow warned, her Will lines starting to flare up, "I would not test it. So, are you willing to help me?"
"I would be honoured, my queen."
"You still have your heart set on this?" Elizabeth asked, crossing her arms as Esther smiled at her as she tucked her journal and drawing utensils inside a bag, along with a change of clothes. The young adult nodded her head, her eyes alight with excitement.
"I do," Esther said after a few moments, "I have a good feeling about this. You don't need to worry, the worst that could happen is that I am turned away and I return back home, saddened, but in one piece."
"Or it could completely destroy your love for your artwork," Elizabeth said softly, "you seem to love it so much, it would hurt me to see you lose that over this."
"I doubt that it will, though in the event that it does, you are my mother, I am sure you know that I will find something else," Esther said with a quick nod and a bright smile, "don't worry."
"Very well," Elizabeth said, pulling her daughter into a tight embrace, "I am proud of you, Esther, I hope that you will be able to impress the queen. If you do end up staying longer than expected, do write to me. I want to know what happens."
"You could always come with me," Esther suggested as her mother pulled away from the embrace, adjusting the bag that hung over her shoulder.
"Why?" Elizabeth asked, a playful smile crossing her face, "so I can hold your hand as you walk into the castle and remind you how important lighting is?"
"No," Esther said, giving her a playful glare in return, "It is just...you spend so much time in Oakfield, much more so inside the house. You'll be alone for a few days, and, as much as you worry about me, I worry about you also."
"I'll be fine," Elizabeth said, giving her daughter a loving smile, "I do have friends here, I am not a complete recluse."
"Alright," Esther said softly, a smile crossing her face, "I'll be back as soon as I am able. If not, I will try and write as often as I can."
"Good luck," Elizabeth said as Esther turned and started to walk towards the edge of town, a smile growing on her face.
I do hope she does go somewhere with this, she thought to herself, hoping that Esther will do good.
She also hoped that she will be committed to this if she is picked, that this isn't just another impulse to her. Though, seeing her drawings and all the work she put into readying herself for this, she had a feeling that this was something she was truly passionate about.
This could be a turning point for the both of them.